


Before I Burn With Envy

by Scriptor_Bellum



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Blood, Body Horror, Conditioning, Gaslighting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Messed-Up Thought Processes, Other, Past Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, more tags will be added if more things go on!, oof wow this fic is going to be INTENSE, pls read the notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scriptor_Bellum/pseuds/Scriptor_Bellum
Summary: In the Circles of Hell, the world’s sinners are punished.Before that, they are sent to Purgatory, where they are given the chance to repent.O Monster Envy, tell me – what shall you do with that chance?Envy redemption and Envy-centric.Eventual Envy/OC, not the story’s full focus.Cross-posted to Fanfiction.net!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW, OKAY. So, after the longest time away from writing for FMA...
> 
> ... I wanted to take a crack at rewriting my old Envy redemption fic, Purgatorio. :) It was originally posted on FF.net, but the original has never been posted on AO3. This rewrite is going to be posted here as well as on FF.net!
> 
> The fic is now called Terrace, and you're going to be reading it now! Lucky you! Or lucky me! Haha!
> 
> Alrighty, so, let me get some preliminary stuff out of the way here so that we can get to the story.
> 
> 1) The universe I write in here is a mixture of the 2003 anime and the Brotherhood anime! It draws more from Brotherhood than the 2003 anime, but there are a lot of cues taken from the 2003 anime as well. The plan is for everything to reveal itself and make sense as the story goes on, but if something doesn't sound quite right to you, it's probably because of the mixed universes, and hopefully will make sense soon!
> 
> 2) Envy in my headcanon is sexless (unless they've shapeshifted into having, uh, parts down there, haha) and genderfluid. In this fic, Envy will be referred to with they, he, and (not quite as frequently) she pronouns. "They" will probably used most of the time, but "he" and "she" will both be used as well at different points.
> 
> 3) Some other characters will call Envy "they", but will also use "he" and "she" for Envy. Personally I don't consider this misgendering, because Envy (again, at least in my headcanon) considers themselves as all genders and will accept being called anything. Sometimes they'll let people know "hey, use 'they' for me till I say different", but most of the time they're just not too fussed about what other people refer to them as. However, if this strikes you as misgendering and/or simply aren't comfortable with it, consider this a warning! Don't read on if you're not going to be comfortable with it. *heart hands*
> 
> 4) In the same vein: Envy will sometimes be referred to as "it" by other characters, always in an attempt to dehumanize or humiliate them. (Dehumanize? De-Homnculus-ize? Bah, you know what I mean.) It will be made VERY clear that this is a bad thing, that it's not acceptable, and that it is one of the cruelest things you can do to a person. DO NOT. DO NOT. EVER. CALL A PERSON "IT".
> 
> 5) I'm working on a very rudimentary version of the Ishvalan language (at the very least, bits and pieces that I'll be using in this fic). At a couple points, Ed refers to my OC Mara (the woman who hurries her subordinates off to their rooms and brings Ed into the story) as "Illah Mara". In my version of the Ishvalan language, "Illah" is a title for an Ishvalan priestess, considered a respectful form of address comparable to "Sister" for a Catholic nun.
> 
> 6) This fic will have heavy themes of abuse and conditioning, suicide/suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation, possible self-harm, torture, body horror, messed-up thought processes, and gaslighting. If any of that makes you uncomfortable or isn't your thing, don't read it. I'll give more warnings at the beginning of a chapter if something is going to be especially heinous, but this is the main warning.
> 
> 7) I'm not excusing Envy's actions in the past - or any current fuck-ups they may (and probably will) make. I don't condone what they've done. They've got plenty of punishment coming, both physical and emotional. My main hope is to get y'all to a point where it becomes "okay, maybe they've had enough" and "good, they're changing".
> 
> 8) Be prepared for twists and turns, kiddos. Buckle up 'cause it's gonna be a wild ride!
> 
> Okay... I think that's everything at least for the first chapter!
> 
> Alrighty! So, with all of that out of the way, and if you'd still like to read this fic...
> 
> Please, enjoy! And make sure to review, please!

_Take a look at my body; look at my hands_  
_There’s so much here that I don’t understand_  
_Your face-saving promises, whispered like prayers_  
_I don’t need them_  
_‘Cause I’ve been treated so wrong – I’ve been treated so long_  
_As if I’m becoming untouchable_  
_Well, content loves the silence; it thrives in the dark_  
_With fine-winding tendrils that strangle the heart_  
_They say that promises sweeten the blow_  
_But I don’t need them_  
_No, I don’t need them_  
_I’ve been treated so wrong; I’ve been treated so long_  
_As if I’m becoming untouchable_  
_I’m a slow-dying flower; I’m the frost-killing hour_  
_Sweet turning sour and untouchable_  
_Oh, I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness_  
_Oh, I need this_  
_I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel, sweet love of my life_  
_**Oh, I need this.**_  
–“My Skin”, Natalie Merchant

* * *

 All they can see is darkness.

Darkness and fire and blood and _God, everything burns._

Their instinct is to curl up into a ball, immediately, to try and make themselves as small as they can. Even then they feel panicked, anxious, vulnerable.

They try to close their eyes, only to find that they aren’t open in the first place. Every twitch they try to make with them results in a flash of pain. It feels like several cold, sharp, smooth little objects are embedded in their eyelids. That thought makes them feel sick.

For at least a few minutes – or hours? Or longer than that, maybe – they can’t remember anything. Who are they? Where are they? Why can’t they see, and why is their entire body throbbing in agony?

It feels like there’s sun beating down on them, and wind whipping around them, and sand digging itself into… open wounds? Are there open wounds on every inch of their skin? That’s what it feels like. That doesn’t make any sense to them. What the hell is going on?

There are too many questions and not nearly enough answers. They want to cry.

They’re not sure how long they stay curled inside themselves, thinking, wheezing, question after question running wild through their mind. All they know is that when the memories start to come back to them, they don’t come slowly.

Memories come one right after another in a frenzied flood. They’re left more confused.

They’re a Homunculus, the oldest of a group of seven. Probably a semi-failed human transmutation, as they can recall. The details are a little fuzzy. They do know that they were a disappointment from birth to death.

 _Envy._ That’s their name.

Pure, unbridled sin. A constant bundle of jealousy and hate straining at the seams of any body they wore.

That’s all they’ve ever been since the very moment their Father brought them into this world to serve him. Envy. It’s ugly.

 _I’m ugly,_ is the foremost thought they can bring themselves to muster.

Every horrible thing they’ve ever done flashes before them, and there are a lot of horrible things they’ve done. There are so many that they lose count.

One of the worst is when they assumed the form of a soldier, shot a child, started a war, and then _talked about it like it was the best experience of their life._

With each memory, they grow more disgusted with themselves.

Then they remember who they are.

They’re a monster.

It’s not a surprise that **monsters do monstrous things,** is it?

The memories are all too much. Their entire life flashes before their eyes, and it’s long. They’ve lived through so many years.

The entirety of their past culminates in a swirling tempest of anger, humiliation, and despair as they pulled their own Philosopher’s Stone from their insides and crushed it to dust. Feeling it all over again is torture.

Someone exposed them. Someone unraveled their entire identity, someone _understood_ _them_ _,_ and their reaction was to kill themselves.

It almost makes them want to die all over again. Shame resonates through them from the center of their being; that in response to what should be a good thing, that someone actually saw through their rage to the broken person they really were, instead of taking it as an opportunity to grow and confront their envious nature, they collapsed in on themselves like a black hole. They let their pain consume them and swallow up any scrap of redemption they could have possibly had.

Why did they do that? Obviously they always clung to some deep self-loathing, but until that point, they never wanted to _die._

Their hands reach up, shaking, fingertips pressing at their eyes. It’s still not clear what’s wrong with them. They can’t see, they have no idea why, and they don’t even know where they are.

Part of their memory is missing, too. How are they alive? What happened that they aren’t irrevocably _dead?_ What kind of body are they in? It doesn’t feel like the form they’re used to, not entirely. The hair is too short, they don’t feel unbearably heavy, and whatever they’re wearing, it isn’t their preferred outfit at all. A tentative, weak, “Hey… is anyone there…?,” proves that their voice is still the same, albeit raspier than ever, probably thanks to their new body.

They try to move, but it’s too hard to do more than shift themselves into a sitting position. Something is against their back, so they lean to use it as support. A wall, maybe? They have no idea where exactly they are. Is it Amestris, or somewhere else?

Their eyes haven’t stopped hurting. It feels like white-hot needles have been shoved all the way through to the backs of their sockets. No matter what kind of move they make with their eyes, they won’t open, and it doesn’t let up. This is worse than when the Colonel boiled their eyes out of their skull several times over before their death.

When they swallow, they find that their throat is thick and sore. They do their best to breathe, focusing on that; a few breaths in, they can’t focus anymore. Discomfort is pulsing through their entire body, blood rushing past their ears, exhaustion settling into their bones.

Those thoughts snap them to attention. _Wait a second._

They’re a Homunculus, aren’t they? That means they shouldn’t have all these injuries. Homunculi are resilient, invincible, god-like. Before, any injury that Envy sustained would fix itself within seconds – or minutes, if it were something that should have been fatal.

Whatever happened to make these wounds, they should have been healed by now.

“So why the hell,” they hiss as their fingers wander over their various cuts, “ _are they_ _ **still here?!**_ ”

The only reply they get is a gentle breeze that ghosts more grains of sand across their open wounds.

Fair enough, they suppose.

They’re not quite sure how long they sit here like this. After a while, they start to cry. It’s almost silent, sobs ripping at their throat in an attempt to be free, and absolutely unmistakable. Tears roll down their cheeks to compound their suffering – saltwater washing into the gashes on their face.

It’s hopeless. _Hopeless._

What beats inside their chest is no longer the constant, unstoppable, weighted thrum of compressed human souls. They aren’t healing instantly. There’s a churning feeling in their stomach that points to something being very, very wrong.

The more they think, the more mortified they become. Even though they’re not sure what happened to bring them back to life, something did, and in that process… somehow, they feel as if they’ve lost everything that made them a Homunculus. So what the hell are they now? A human?

God, they don’t want that. Just imagining how they must look, useless and crying in the dirt, human, makes their skin crawl.

 _Jealous of humans? Sure. But that doesn’t mean I want to_ _**be** _ _one!_

How did this happen? Why is that the only part of their memory that isn’t coming to them? Despite knowing who they are now, all they have are more questions instead of any answers.

They slam their fist down, unsure of what they’ll find but too frustrated to care. What they connect with turns out to be solid rock. The action elicits a yelp, then Envy brings their bruised fingers close against their chest. “Fucking… damn it…” They’re still crying, unable to stop, as they bring their knees up to their chest as well. The urge to ball up and tuck themselves away from anyone or anything overwhelms their being.

Folded in on themselves like this, however, is the closest they can seem to get. Even now, the pain is hardly bearable.

They didn’t _want_ to die.

But if this is going to be their life now, they’re not all that sure they want to _live,_ either.

* * *

 Envy stays in this position for what feels like a long time. They’re tired and they don’t know if they can move without their sight and everything hurts anyway.

Time blurs together. Each moment is just as excruciating as the last. As soon as they catch themselves thinking things like, _I’m not going to make it,_ they mentally smack themselves into shape – reminding themselves that they survived the minute before, so they can survive the next minute, too. If they don’t take time in small chunks like that, it truly _would_ be too much for them.

Their thoughts turn from memories to contemplation of their future, which is probably just as bad as looking back on their past.

What are they looking forward to? What are they hoping to survive until? Until someone finds them?

If some random human finds them, they’ll either be forced to move even though they have nowhere to go, or they’ll be put to work even though they’ve been blinded.

If someone like the military finds them, they’ll be executed on the spot.

In this state, as angry as they would be, they aren’t nearly strong enough to stop any of it from happening.

They’re not sure how long it takes; eventually, they hear bare feet on the ground and whispers of voices. They aren’t concentrating enough to make out everything, but they do catch a few words.

“… doing there? … A man or a woman…?”

“… No, don’t! … Tell Mara…”

“He’s hurt–”

“Or she?”

“… Hopeless… go, go!”

The voices fall hushed, followed by more shuffling, and a new, feminine voice. This one they can fully understand, because she only speaks two sentences.

“Go into the other room and lock the door, but don’t worry. I will find someone to take care of this.”

The bare feet plod away quickly, and the woman’s heeled shoes click in the opposite direction.

Envy is frozen in place by fear. Where is she going? Who’s she getting? Why didn’t she just ‘take care’ of them herself? What the hell does she even mean by that? Did she go to find someone to shoot them in the head or something?

They’re going to die. They’re going to die alone and weak, in some desert in the middle of nowhere, without even being able to see their executioner.

They start to sob again, and this time, the cries scratch their throat as they’re let loose. “I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!” Was having their perfect body burned to ash a thousand times over and wrenching their Stone from their ugly body not enough? Do they really have to go through it again?

That would be it, too. No matter how they’re alive right now, if they die, it’s going to stick this time.

They’re still blubbering to themselves when the woman comes back, and she’s accompanied by two more pairs of footsteps. It sounds like she stops a few feet away, not wanting to approach too closely. “Here. We found him this morning, but it looks like he’s been sitting here for a while.” Her voice is quiet and even, but crisp. “A few days, maybe. Normally I would help myself… it’s just… he doesn’t look Ishvalan, and he doesn’t look Amestrian, either. I thought maybe you might know where he could possibly be from and how he wound up here.”

“Please don’t kill me,” Envy wails before either of the other people speak. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die…”

A small gasp meets their ears, despite their distress. “Brother! Is it just me or… does he sound like…”

“ _Envy._ ” The voice is one they recognize as Edward Elric – the very person who picked apart the knot of their entire being in less than ten words. He sounds mature and experienced, yet his voice retains all the qualities they remember about him. Footsteps shuffle, one heavier than the other, and it’s obvious that those are his. They can feel him coming closer. “Is… is that you? Envy?”

The manage to lift their head, and there are tears still trickling down their cheeks. It hurts. Not to mention that they don’t want him seeing them this unguarded. He already tore apart who they are; why should he get _more_ of their insecurity? “Yes…” Their breath is coming in ragged gasps. Although they’re trying to keep themselves from crying more, it’s not very effective. That’s all they want to do right now. “What… are you… doing here? _Leave me alone…_ I don’t want to die…!”

A gloved hand sets itself on their shoulder, gentle despite everything. “Hey, hey, hey. What the hell is wrong with you?! We’re not gonna kill you!” His hand stays, although his voice turns away from them slightly. “Illah Mara, you said you just found him here today?”

“Yes,” the woman speaks up. “Two of my disciples came to collect the rainwater, and found him here.” Confusion creeps its way into her tone. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, but… he should be dead. He’s been dead for almost ten years.” To his credit, Edward’s voice is also full of confusion. There’s more there, of course. He sounds bitter and bewildered and almost pitying. _Great._ That’s definitely not what Envy needed or wanted. “The last time we saw him, he’d just ripped out his Philosopher’s Stone and faded away into nothing.”

“But this is a human.” The woman doesn’t sound any less mystified than she did a moment ago. “Humans don’t have Philosopher’s Stones inside them. And even if he were a – Homunculus, is that what they’re called? And he… killed himself…” Her voice falters on those words, lingering in her mouth, as if she doesn’t want to say them. “How is he alive now? You bore witness to that, I take it? You know it really, truly happened?”

“Yeah, I was there. I saw it. He… he died.” It becomes apparent that the hand on their shoulder is Edward’s, though they guessed that much before. “Envy, how are you alive again? Have you been alive this whole time? If you pulled some dirty trick, I swear–”

The other voice, the one Envy knows as Edward’s younger brother Alphonse, joins the conversation. “He can’t have been alive this whole time, Ed. It’s been _ten years._ We would have known. Besides, if he’s human now… I-I mean, none of this makes sense. Why would he just sit here and let someone find him? How would he have gotten all the way to Ishval? He looks like he can barely stand! He looks like he’s stayed in one spot, and like he hasn’t been eating…”

Everyone is silent for a moment, and the only sound is the stream of Envy’s sobbing that they’re trying to get under control.

Finally, Edward lets out a deep sigh that doesn’t seem to fully express his frustration with this. “Okay. Illah Mara, Al and I will take it from here. Go make sure your disciples aren’t too shaken up, and continue your day as normal.” Then he turns his attention back to the former Homunculus as the woman’s footsteps fade away. “Envy? Envy, are you listening to me? I have some questions, and I need you to pay attention.”

“Listening…” Envy’s almost got their crying reined in, and most of it now is confined to sharp gasps as they attempt to regulate their breathing. Their Homunculus body might have been capable of going without oxygen, but in this body, that lack gives the distinct impression that their lungs are on fire.

Having had their lungs actually on fire, they can say they really aren’t fond of that sensation.

“What happened to you?” is the first thing he asks. “How are you alive?”

They shake their head. “I… I don’t know…” Raising their arm to rub their tears away hurts like hell, and it leaves them shaking. Do they really not have enough strength for that? Evidently they manage to even screw up rubbing salt into their own wounds. “When I woke up like this… I didn’t remember anything about my life or death. Now I remember everything… except how I’m not dead.” Their eyebrows knit together in anger. “If you’re looking for answers as to that, I don’t _have any._ ”

A thoughtful hum comes from Edward’s voice, and Alphonse clears his throat. “Don’t push it too much, brother. If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. And if he’s lying, he’s not going to decide to tell the truth just because you press the issue.”

Envy is already being branded a potential liar. Not that they blame Alphonse, but they don’t know whether to laugh or start crying again.

“Yeah… you’re right. Pressing it would probably just make him clam up, if anything.” Edward gives another sigh. “Okay, Envy. How long have you been here? Have you been alive all this time or not?”

“I’m… not sure.” Although they undoubtedly know how to tell time, their inability to see and general distress have ensured that they really have no idea how long they’ve been sitting here, alive and suffering. “I-I mean,” they quickly clarify, “I know I haven’t been alive all this time. It’s… a few days? Less than a week, I… I can’t see… I can’t tell…”

Alphonse squeaks softly. “Oh, Ed! Look at his eyes!”

Immediately, Envy’s hand reaches up toward their face. They aren’t sure what happened to their eyes, or what state they’re in right now. “What – what is wrong… _with my eyes?_ ”

“Oh, my God.” Edward’s hand moves to Envy’s cheek, pushing their own fingers away and earning him a muted growl. “Whoa, hey. Calm down. I just want to see what… wow. Yeah…” He sounds horrified, his voice shaking now. “Envy, your eyes… they’ve been sewn shut. With… with metal wire, it looks like. You… didn’t do this to yourself, did you?”

Envy has to bite their lip to keep from bursting into tears all over again. Is that why their eyes keep stinging while they cry, and why they hurt so much? That would certainly explain it. But who the hell who do something like that? Who would sew their eyes shut with metal wire, cover every inch of their body in wounds, and then just leave them to fend for themselves? And why? And how?

Why don’t they have any _answers?_

“Do you really think I would do this to myself?!” is all they can bring themselves to say in response to this information.

Edward lets out a sound of indignation. “Well, excuse me for thinking so, because you’ve already killed yourself once!”

Envy can’t deny that, of course. So instead of starting an argument they know they won’t win, they sob, shoulders slumping. They want to curl up like they were before. “My eyes… oh, God, I want to die! Just _leave me to die…!_ ”

“We’re not going to do that!” Alphonse pipes up. He pauses, and neither man says anything for a few seconds. Then he speaks again. “But, um, Ed… what _are_ we going to do? I mean, he’s not the best person, sure, but we can’t just leave him here…”

Silence blankets the three of them for what seems like a long time to Envy. It makes them nervous, prickling at the back of their neck like the feeling of being watched. Memories and the present swirl together, and they feel boxed in. Absolutely they can’t just leave Envy here; and yet, the possibilities of what the brothers might do instead make Envy’s new blood run cold.

Imprisonment? Torture? Execution?

What’s worse, Envy is sure they wouldn’t blame anyone for doing any combination of those things.

Their stomach churns. The fact that they haven’t eaten or drank anything is quite possibly the only reason they don’t bend over and vomit.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay.” Edward’s hand moves away from Envy’s face, which gives them the barest sense of peace.

The Fullmetal Alchemist takes a deep breath, and what he says next takes away the scrap of peace he just gave them.

“We’re taking him back to Central. _Now._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Envy boards the train back to Central with Ed and Al, and the mystery only deepens from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Boy, it is not a good day to be Envy, haha.
> 
> So yeah, the plot thickens! I hope I'm not totally screwing the rules of alchemy or anything here, lol... I recently (a couple months ago, about the time I started rewriting this fic) sat down and watched the entirety of FMAB to make sure I understood the rules and the plot as accurately as I possibly could, so that I wouldn't botch anything in this fic too terribly. So hopefully that's sticking!
> 
> I also hope I'm getting a good balance of, uhhh, not making things too easy for Envy but also still keeping it in mind that as bad as they are, they _are_ still a person, you know? They're cooperating at least physically for now, so hopefully the way they're being treated doesn't come off as unrealistic even with their foul attitude at the moment!
> 
> ANYWAYS, as always, leave a comment if you liked it!! That always motivates me to write more! <3

The attempt at getting Envy up off the ground is, at first, a little pathetic. Not only does Envy not want to go, they’re so weak and in so much pain that they’re basically dead weight. It takes both Edward and Alphonse to pull them to their feet. Once they get there, they refuse to make things any easier for the two alchemists.

In fact, much like a petulant child throwing a tantrum in their mother’s arms because they want to go home, they’ve decided to put forth their best efforts at making this as difficult as possible.

As soon as they’re pulled up, they start screaming and go limp. They complain that it hurts, that they want to be left alone, that this isn’t any of Edward or Alphonse’s business. To which Edward replies that a homicidal Homunculus who’s suddenly alive after being dead for ten years is _absolutely_ their business even if they’re not State Alchemists anymore. Much as Envy can’t really dispute that point, that doesn’t mean they have to like it.

They do wish they could see Edward and Alphonse’s faces (as well as the woman from earlier and her apparent disciples) when the Elrics drag Envy out, yelling and begging not to be killed. They can hear, and the woman’s distressed voice as she asks what they’re doing with Envy is satisfying. That would be the pinnacle of their amusement if Edward didn’t immediately get defensive, answering her in a panicked tone, “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! He’s delirious! We’re _not_ taking him somewhere to be killed! We’re taking him somewhere _safe!_ ”

Even with their mind clouded by pain and disjointed thoughts, it strikes Envy as unbearably funny.

Once they’re evidently away from people, Edward ties a rope around their wrists. It’s loose enough to not dig into their wounds, but tight enough that they really can’t get out of it, especially in their weakened state. Edward explains this as that they need to walk a distance to the train station, but they also don’t trust Envy not to make a run for it, and they are not going to be carrying Envy. He says he’ll be holding the other end of the rope; if Envy tries to flee, they _will_ be stopped.

Envy truly doesn’t doubt that the brothers could stop them if they made an attempt to run. They’re probably better off not trying, even though they know where they’re going. They’re probably going to be taken in front of the Fuhrer, probably going to be jailed and tortured and eventually killed. And yet, their bones are jelly. They’re pretty sure they couldn’t run for their life even if someone set them on fire. If that happened, they would just sit there and burn.

… Again.

God, but they have never wanted to vomit so much in their life. How did they get here? Why are they in such a sorry state? Why don’t they have any answers? Why do they remember everything about their life except the one part that would explain this and at least offer them some solace? What _happened?_

Although they don’t particularly want to move, they have to or else they’ll probably just be dragged. That would be even worse. If sand being blown into their wounds by the wind was bad, then having the grains shoved and pressed into the gashes would be absolutely unbearable. At this point, avoiding as much pain as possible is the only best interest they have.

At least until they figure out what’s going to happen to them in Central. After that, priorities might shift a bit.

The journey to the train station is interrupted only once to stop for water at what sounds like a small shop or a well or something. Edward cautions Envy not to say a word as the group approaches, so they stay silent. There’s no sense mouthing off right now. They’re in too much pain to fight if it comes to exchanging blows. The merchant (or well attendant, or whatever) makes small talk with the brothers, though Envy is a little too out of it to pick up most of exactly what’s being said. Both brothers sound far too friendly for people who are doing the equivalent of leading a wounded dog to be put out of its misery.

Regardless, they don’t linger too long. Whoever the other person is, she fills up a couple of canteens for them, then the brothers bid her goodbye and they all head off.

The sand is warm beneath Envy’s feet, and they’re actually grateful to be moving again. When they stood still, the sand started to get hot; it probably would have succeeded in burning their soles if they didn’t start moving when they did. It’s strange to them, because at the very least they should be wearing their cut-off stockings. They’re not, though. After a few steps where they wriggle their feet after coming up from the sand, it becomes clear that they’re totally barefoot.

Although they didn’t think about it before, when the rope was first tied around their wrists, they aren’t wearing their half gloves, either. They only have to make weak fists once to realize it. Both articles being missing makes them wonder exactly how they’re dressed. Is it their old outfit or something more ‘modest’?

The longer they plod along behind the Elrics, the more fatigue scrabbles its calloused fingers at them. If they thought they could get away with it, they would just collapse face-down in the sand and go unconscious.

Of course, that’s a bad idea. For one thing, they’d end up with a mouthful of sand and be coughing it up for weeks. (If they even live that long. They’re not too hopeful on that front.) For another, they’re sure that if they passed out, upon waking up they would be lectured for it. Their mood is already foul and anxious and adding a scolding over fainting will only make them want to murder someone.

More than they already want to, anyway. Not that they think they could at the moment. Unfortunately, because it would probably relieve a lot of stress.

Thankfully, they don’t have to walk too much longer before they reach the train station. By the time they arrive, they’ve settled for the most part, and are trying to be less of a pitiful mess than they were about an hour ago.

They can’t see the humans around them, but they can _feel_ everything. It’s a throng of people, busy, full of energy and noise. Envy should be used to these kinds of places – instead, all they can do here is internally panic and pray to whatever god is listening that nobody touches them. They can hear the Elrics trying to make up an explanation, warning people against getting too close. Edward has pulled the rope shorter, giving Envy less space between the brothers so that they won’t be able to go as leisurely as they were before.

Sight isn’t necessary to feel that there are eyes on them. Those eyes are judgmental, boring into them, and accompanied by comments that aren’t quite low enough to be whispers. Though the humans probably think they’re being inconspicuous, that’s another way they fail.

“Oh, good gods, what happened to him?”

“Are you even sure it’s a him? Do men wear their hair that long now?”

“Might be an Ishvalan trend.”

“He doesn’t look Ishvalan, though.”

“What about Xingese? I visited Xing once and saw a lot of men with long hair.”

“He doesn’t look like he’s from Xing either.”

“Well, maybe he’s Amestrian.”

“Definitely not from the military, though.”

“Do you see the way that person is dressed?”

“How tacky, showing off that much skin!”

“Maybe she’s a prostitute.”

“Or he! You never know with some of the people that come through here.”

“True, true. Well, whoever they are, they’re beat up pretty bad.”

“Yeah, look at all those marks. Rough customer, you think?”

“Could be, poor thing.”

“Ugh, who would do that to someone?”

“Some people are just awful.”

“Mommy, Mommy! How come that lady has so many boo-boos?”

“I, uh – I don’t know, darling. Oh, come now, you stay right here! Our train’s not here yet!”

“But Mommy!”

“Simone–!”

When a little hand pats Envy’s leg, it takes all of their willpower not to growl. They try to bat at the tiny fingers, but given their lack of strength at the moment, it’s more a feeble brush than anything. “Stop… stop it…”

Seeming unaffected, the little girl just giggles at their protests. By their ear, she sounds like she can’t be more than five years old. “I hope you feel better soon, Miss! Have fun on the train!”

“Oh, we’ll have lots of fun!” Alphonse cuts in. Although it’s a lie, it’s also probably an attempt to defuse the situation. An already bad-tempered Envy in a crowded space with a grabby child is a recipe for disaster. “You have fun, too, and listen to your mommy, okay?”

“Uh-huh, of course!” With that, the child may as well have vanished into thin air.

The rope around Envy’s wrists is given an insistent tug, and when that happens, it actually digs into their wounds. “ _Ow!_ ” they hiss. “That hurt, you know!”

“Well, you have to get moving,” comes Edward’s voice. “We’re not gonna miss the train just because you don’t wanna step it up.”

“That might be a little harsh, Ed,” Alphonse sighs. “He _is_ hurt. Neither of us would want to move if we were as hurt as he is.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hate it when you’re right. Just – come on, Envy. You can sit down as soon for a few hours if you just _get on the train._ ”

Exhausted as they are and despite their outburst, Envy really doesn’t have the strength for a fight right now, even a verbal one. So they just send what they assume is a scathing look toward where they assume Edward is and lift their leg… before realizing a problem. “I… can’t see.”

Edward scoffs. “Yeah, we knew that. So?”

The first who sees the issue is Alphonse. “Oh, Ed. He’s gonna need some help up; he can’t see, so he doesn’t know where anything is.”

“… Oh. Right, yeah. Sorry, Envy, let me just–”

Immediately, Envy gets defensive. Even though they can’t see, they’re not going to admit to being unable to do something as simple as stepping onto a train by themselves. “I don’t need your help! I’m not weak!”

Except apparently they are, at least right now, because they take one step, bang their knees against something solid and metal, and land gracelessly on a rough carpeted floor. All they have the strength to do is let out one long, low whine. This isn’t fair! Why didn’t their body do what they told it to do?!

Someone (the attendant taking tickets as people board the train, they assume) bites back a laugh, and it’s all Envy can do to not leap up and deck this person in the face.

“Good grief,” Edward sighs before arms – presumably his – pull Envy up off the ground.

Although Envy seethes the entire time, they don’t say anything as Edward all but carries them through the train. They simply make little sounds of discomfort and squirm around.

As soon as they’re deposited into a seat, they curl up… and promptly hit their head on a window. Lovely; now _every_ part of their body hurts. They groan softly and try to find a position that’s at least a little comfortable. That’s asking the impossible, though. Nothing is comfortable right now.

This train must be nicer than a lot of others, because they hear something shut before Alphonse announces, “There we go! The door to our section’s closed. I’ve gotta admit, it’s kind of nice to have a little privacy on a train. Especially in a situation like this.”

“You said it.” It sounds like Edward decided to sit across from Envy, and Alphonse settles in beside them. (Likely, they think, to prevent any attempt at running on their part.) “Damn. We’re not even supposed to be in Amestris at all right now; how pissed do you think the Fuhrer’s going to be when we show up like this, out of nowhere, without even sending a postcard, with Envy? How pissed, Al?”

“On a scale of one to ten?” Alphonse chuckles, and after a few seconds of pause, he answers, “Twenty.”

Edward snorts. “Sounds about right.”

While they banter, Envy takes their remarks and tries to turn them into something meaningful. So, the Fuhrer – is that still Wrath? If the world is still mostly as they remember it, with Edward and Alphonse still alive and free, along with the planet not being plunged into whatever Father wanted, then that means Father’s plan failed.

If Father’s plan failed… would Wrath still be Fuhrer? Do they know who Wrath really is? Or is someone else ruling over Amestris now? But if someone else is Fuhrer, where’s Wrath? Locked up in a dungeon? Is he even still alive?

The next thought hits Envy like a ton of bricks: Are _any_ of their siblings still alive? They know Lust is dead, but what about everyone else? Wrath? Pride? Gluttony? Sloth? Greed?

Even though they weren’t like a human family, they and Father were still all Envy ever had in the world.

Now Envy is _truly_ alone.

Thinking that they might be the only one left makes their hands shake.

It’s only lucky for them that as soon as their hands start shaking is when the train starts to move.

A few minutes pass in silence, then Edward clears his throat and speaks up again. “So, Envy. It’s gonna be a few hours’ ride back to Amestris. A lot of time to talk.”

“I told you,” they mutter, annoyed that he’s bringing this up again, “I don’t have any answers. What, you don’t believe me?”

“Easy, easy. First of all, you might wanna lose the attitude.” Edward sounds older and a little harsher, but it also sounds like he’s actually giving Envy advice that he thinks will help them. “Not only do I not like it, when we get to Amestris, it’s _definitely_ not going to fly with the Fuhrer.”

Envy grunts. “What’s second of all, then?”

“Second of all,” Edward answers honestly, ignoring any venom in their voice, “is that we have every reason in the world to doubt everything you say. When you were alive before, your entire being was based on being a liar. Shooting Maes Hughes in cold blood while wearing his wife’s face ring a bell for you? Because it does for me.”

Even though Envy _wants_ to make some stupid, gloating comment, they realize it’s probably best to keep their mouth shut. “Okay, fine, I’m a liar. But even a broken clock is right twice a day. And I. Do Not. Know. What. Happened. To. Me.”

Edward lets out a small huff, though he seems to accept that at least for now. “Alright. Well, does anyone have any guesses, then? Because you were dead, Envy. I saw you fade away into nothing. How are you back, why after ten years, and what caused all of these wounds all over your body? Theories, everyone, go.”

After another tense quiet, Alphonse speaks up. “Human – or, well, Homunculus – transmutation, maybe? I… don’t know who would want to bring him back, though. No offense, Envy!” he adds quickly. “It’s just… with your father gone… I can’t think of anything that anyone might gain by bringing you back to life.”

“Noted.” If Envy’s eyes weren’t shut, they’d be rolling back in their head. “… Hey. If I actually contribute something to this discussion, am I allowed to ask questions? Or do I not get that right at all?”

They’re pretty sure Edward and Alphonse exchange a look, then Edward hums. “Yeah, I guess that would be okay. But you’re not guaranteed an answer if we think answering one of your questions would be a bad idea. So before you ask your question, what’s your contribution?”

Envy shifts around slightly, and they find that the train’s seats have a table between both sides. They tap their fingers against it, although it’s not the smartest move given that it’s painful. “If I’m back… and apparently _human…_ ”

“So, you know you’re human, then?” Alphonse pipes up. “I thought so, but… how is that possible? And how can you know for absolute certain?”

The other shrugs, sending a jolt of agony up their shoulder blades. “It’s just something I can feel. If I were still a Homunculus, my wounds would have healed by now. And my Stone…” Their other hand drifts up, curling their fingers against their collarbone. “… It doesn’t feel like it’s there anymore. I don’t feel as heavy as I did before. And I…” They lick their lips, not wanting to say these next words. “I don’t think I can change my form.”

“Yeah,” Ed sighs, “that does make sense. Not like I’m gonna weep for the loss of a Philosopher’s Stone, though. So, you were saying, _if?_ ”

Envy bristles slightly at his nonchalant attitude toward what used to be their life source, but manage to prevent themselves from saying anything dumb by simply growling instead. “ _If…_ I’m back and human… _because_ I’m back at all – because the former tin can over here pointed out that Father is gone, so no one would have attempted transmutation with me… and because you can’t _technically_ bring someone back from the dead… that means something else happened when I died. Something,” they add dryly, “that doesn’t involve _technically_ bringing me back from the dead.”

Their fingers drum anxiously on the table. “Something like me going through the Gate of Truth and not fully dying. I don’t know how it would have happened, or what even happened, because for all intents and purposes, I _was_ dead, but… if I went through the Gate and didn’t fully die, if I exchanged something for coming back, it explains why I don’t have my Stone. Being brought back to life like this… the reason all human transmutations fail is because of equivalent exchange. Nothing is as _precious_ as a human soul, right?” They make sure to spit out the entire sentence like it’s poison, because they surely don’t believe that.

“That’s always been the rule alchemy’s governed by, anyway,” Ed replies. He sounds tired; definitely not happy with Envy’s remarks, yet willing to endure them to see if Envy actually has some kind of point. “More accurate translations have surfaced recently, thanks to more contact between different countries, and a lot of the older alchemical texts don’t describe human transmutation as ‘failed’. The exact word most of them use is actually ‘incomplete’. As in, they would have worked if they used something that was equal to the value of a human soul. Like that single value is the only thing that’s missing. Except,” he continues, his voice a little more on edge, “that you’re right. There’s nothing in the known world that’s equal to a human soul. Life itself has meaning that can’t have a concrete value put on it the same way flesh can. There’s no substitute for a human soul.”

Envy lets a few seconds of silence pass before they drop their bombshell of a hypothesis on the brothers. All things considered, they’re not as stupid as people usually take them for, and they grasp the basics of alchemy at least enough to form a possible explanation based on equivalent exchange.

“Except maybe another human soul. Or, more precisely, _several_ other human souls.”

Their fingers stop moving. “You know… like the ones in a Philosopher’s Stone.”

Both of the Elrics are so eerily silent that for a moment, Envy wonders whether or not either of them will ever speak again. The only sound that fills their partition is that of the train’s wheels on the railway as they rattle along. They consider that perhaps they’re wrong about this. That maybe it doesn’t make sense, because after all, Envy does only know the very basics of alchemy. Even if they did get something wrong, what are they _supposed_ to think? Even a flawed theory is better than no theory at all. At the moment, this seems to be the _only_ theory any of them have got.

Finally, Edward breaks the silence. “So, that’s what you think, huh? You think that you went through the Gate, and to bring you back to life, Truth took your Philosopher’s Stone to fulfill the rules of equivalent exchange?” He’s quiet for a second, and the fact that Envy says nothing is all the answer he needs. “Envy, I need you to tell the truth for once. How many souls were inside your Stone?”

That question catches Envy off guard. Not only have they never thought about that, they don’t understand why he’s asking. “I… well, it’s not exactly–”

“The _truth,_ Envy.” Edward’s voice leaves no room for debate.

“I’m _telling_ you the truth!” Envy scowls. What the hell would they have to gain by lying right now? There’s no way lying would make things any better for them right now, and in fact that would probably make it worse. “I don’t know how many souls were in my Stone. Father didn’t see fit to tell me, and there’s no other way for me to know something like that. If I had to guess, I’d say probably somewhere between fifty and a hundred, but that’s _just_ a guess. It might be more than that; it might be fewer.” Their eyebrows knit together, hopefully communicating how irritated they are not to be believed when they’re trying their best to be cooperative. “What are you driving at, anyway?”

Edward’s breath shakes, and he doesn’t speak again. Instead, it’s Alphonse who replies. “If you gave up your Stone to come back to life, then that’s at least fifty souls in exchange for one life. In exchange for your… do you even have a soul?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Envy moves their hand from the table so that they can cross their arms, and immediately moans in pain. “Oh, fuck, ow…”

Alphonse sighs softly. “Well, let’s say hypothetically, you do have a soul of your own. That’s one soul, for you, separate from the souls that were inside your Stone. If Truth took your Philosopher’s Stone for your soul coming back into your body, that’s not equivalent exchange. Even if Truth used a soul to also create this body for you, that’s still only two souls that would have been needed to bring you back.”

“Which means,” Edward clarifies once he’s able to speak again, “that leaves what’s basically an overage of at least forty-eight souls… if not more than that. So if Truth took your Philosopher’s Stone, using two souls in exchange to bring you back to life, what did the _rest_ of the souls get exchanged for?”

The scoff he gives sounds both pettily offended and rightfully angry. “I mean, if you even have a soul of your own, there’s no way it’s worth _fifty or more_ human souls.”

Envy scoffs right back. “Nobody’s arguing that. On my best day, I’m probably worth half a human soul. At my worst, I should owe Truth a few souls simply because I exist at all.”

An uncomfortable silence passes before Alphonse speaks up again, quietly. “He didn’t say _that,_ Envy.”

“No, but I could have and I wouldn’t exactly be wrong.” Some shifting around comes from Ed’s side. “If he wants to think he’s worth nothing, let him think it. We get him out of immediate danger, try to figure out what’s going on here, and all he does is act like a jerk. Apparently, any job we decide to do is a thankless one, even if it’s saving someone’s ass.”

Alphonse chuckles, then a hand is set carefully on Envy’s leg. It seems like he’s trying to be gentle, but even without malice in the touch, it hurts just the same, and Envy pulls away instantly. “Well, I think either of us would be a little mean too, if we were in his position. More speculation about this can probably wait; I’m sure Envy’s head is starting to spin, and to be honest, mine’s not much better. But now that we’re done with that – Envy, you had some questions?”

Envy lets a small growl slip past their lips. “You’re _damn right_ I have some questions.”


End file.
